


Dreams

by Misswits14



Category: NiGHTS into Dreams
Genre: my dreams
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-29 10:35:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18221969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misswits14/pseuds/Misswits14
Summary: Simple and easy, the dreams that need to come out, I simply can't have them in.





	Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Knives, skin cutting, and fucked upness for all

My rapist and my mother.

This dream started out slow, he was there, talking to my mom, acting as though I never confessed, never talked about it. A never ending hate filled me, a rage I couldn't handle. I watched as they played in the restroom, acting as though I never happened, that my rape was nothing. But deep down I knew she knew what happened. This is what happens in dreams, you forget that there was a certain memory there, or perhaps the memory hadn't happened yet. I shouted, 'Hey rapist', and that's when I knew for certain that my mom knew what happened. They looked at me with disdain, like I was the problem in there marrige, that I was the annoying stain that wouldn't come out. God I hated that look. No words were expressed, untill I grabbed a bottle. I don't remember the bottles we had, but I remember the one I had in hand. It was a child bottle of spray that untangled kids hair. I sprayed it into their eyes. Mom wasn't affected by it as much as he was. He screamed and rolled on the ground, screeching it hurt, it sizzled from his eyes. I was surprised, mom wasn't affected, so why was he? I dont know why, but pity got the best of me, and I threw a towel over his eyes and shouted "That's what you get," and ran to my room. My sister isn't in there, where was she? It was just a dream of course so why was I having these thoughts without her showing up? I hear mumbling outside the door. "Please don't hurt her," says my mom, and with that I already trying to open the window of my old room to break out, to run, to try to escape the fate brought on to me by my actions. The window opens a little but won't fully come up. I give in, get the punishment over with, and then I'll kill myself. There wasn't a reason to live, my mother was waltzing around like a good dog with a rapist, MY RAPIST, that she knows and continues to do nothing about. I listen back to the doors, and hear them talk. "We'll make it quick, in and out, less than five minutes," I'm scared, is he going to rape me? Is mom going to watch, please God anything but that. I open the door ready to fight. What I see is so much worse. I see both of them, holding small knives. I can handle knives, if they're big enough that they don't have proper flexibility and need big motions to cut, but small ones? No! I can't fight back, can't grab any thing but their wrist, and even then, with a knife so tiny and flexible? I'll be cut. I cry "Mommy, you know how I feel about Knives!," And try my best to close the door, but they start cutting my arm. Small cuts ooze out small streams of blood, there's no pain, just awful uncomfortable pressure of the knife. I say screw it! I grab my rapists hand, and twist hoping to dispose of the knife in his hand, but as I thought, he turned the knife and dug it into my skin. It didn't feel like much, but the skin looked otherwise. I was flabby, deformed, you could tell where the knife perced, twisted, and was yanked out. I was terrified! Last thing I heard was my mom saying "You've went too far." Like I was nothing. Such simple words in such a complicated situation. I woke up, to feel nothing.


End file.
